


Five Times the Tardis Tried to Play Matchmaker (and One Time She Actually Succeeded)

by Caedmon



Series: Doctor/Rose Prompts [23]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Interfering TARDIS, Romance, Smut, Swearing, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose belong together. The Tardis tries to make it happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Tardis Makes Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExcusemewhileIwagmytail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcusemewhileIwagmytail/gifts).



> This is a gift for excusemewhileiwagmytail who asked for interfering Tardis, plus smut. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a drabble. A _drabble_ , folks. 
> 
> Beta'd by TenRoseForeverAndEver and mountaingirlheidi, who each made invaluable contributions and were both absolute saints while I wrestled with this fic for _weeks._
> 
> Rated T until the last chapter, then we go straight to E. You can stop after chapter 7, though. 
> 
> As usual, I own nothing but the mistakes.  
> Comments and kudos mean the absolute world to me and feed the muse.  
> come say hi! caedmonfaith.tumblr.com
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!!

The Tardis loved her Thief. She loved her Bad Wolf. 

Her Thief loved the Bad Wolf, and the Bad Wolf loved the Thief. All she ever wanted was to give each of them what they needed and wanted. 

But the Thief and the Bad Wolf were more than clueless, sometimes. The love between the two radiated and burned hot, like the corona of a brilliant star. Yet neither would acknowledge it. 

Her Bad Wolf believed that the Thief could never love someone like her, so low-born and merely human. So she attempted to bury her love for the Thief deeply in her heart, trying to control it, refusing to let it shine as it was meant to.

Her Thief believed that the Bad Wolf could never love someone like him, so old and broken, so dangerous. So he attempted to bury his love for the Bad Wolf deeply in his hearts, trying to control it, refusing to let it shine as it was meant to. 

At length, the Old Girl had had enough and set about enacting her own little plan...


	2. 1) The Tardis Sets Her Plan Into Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening in the library with the Doctor and Rose.

The Doctor and Rose began the little tradition of winding down together in the evenings not long after Rose came aboard. By mutual unspoken agreement, they would meet in the galley for tea or end up in the library to sit in front of the fire and read or watch telly. The Doctor would sit in his favorite chair and Rose would stretch out on the couch, crossing her ankles and propping herself against the plentiful cushions. The two would relax, unwind, and simply enjoy each other’s company. 

Rose noticed the Doctor sitting on what she considered ‘her couch’ as soon as she entered the library, and wondered about the change. He never sat on the couch with her. Why wasn’t he in his chair? Looking around, she realized that his chair wasn’t there, and her brow knitted in confusion. Odd, that. She didn’t worry about it overmuch, though, just flopped onto her usual spot. There was plenty of room and her feet didn’t touch him, but she drew them up under her anyway. 

The couch seemed less comfortable tonight, however, and Rose was cold. As the movie progressed she shifted in her seat, wrapping the pink blanket he’d bought her at the bazaar in Mahsigr around herself and sitting in various positions before finally pulling her knees to her chest.

It was only when she felt the Doctor shiver beside her that she looked up at him, a little alarmed. 

As the movie played, their couch had, unnoticed by Rose, been reduced in size considerably so that Rose and the Doctor were nearly on top of each other. The Doctor stared straight ahead, squeezing his hand that rested on his thigh into a fist and releasing it, anxiously. Rose squirmed. The movement caused her thigh to brush up against the Doctor’s. 

Something that felt remarkably close to an electric shock jolted her at the light touch.

The Doctor tensed further in her peripheral vision, his jaw clenching, and Rose stiffened in response. 

_Right_ , she thought, recoiling from him as if she’d been burned. It was clear that he didn’t want her touching him. She’d thought that since they always held hands and hugged...no. She’d been wrong. Time to go.

Rose jumped up. “Wow, I didn’t realize I was so tired!” she exclaimed with a voice that sounded false even in her own ears, raising her arms in an exaggerated stretch. “Time for this knackered little ape to go to bed, I suppose. If I’m going to waste a third of my life asleep, might as well start now. Yeah? Night, Doctor!” She fled the room. 

Once in the corridor, Rose leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to calm the ache that had settled around her heart. She’d thought that maybe...maybe he would have accepted her touch, even just a little. She’d hoped that perhaps he even _wanted_ her to touch him. His rejection stung, and she blinked several times, willing away her tears. She certainly enjoyed every moment that they held hands and touched, even casually, but maybe he was just doing it to placate her. Perhaps he was putting on a show, just for public. Her heart ached with the knowledge that he didn’t actually _want_ to touch her.

Rose wondered to herself just how long she could survive his close proximity, wanting him as she did.


	3. 2) The Tardis Regroups. Plan B.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor are surprised with a lovely dinner.

The Doctor’s physiology had become quite in tune with Rose’s over the last year and a half, so much so that he often found himself craving food at the same time she did. They ate together often, which was pleasant for both of them. At least, he thought it was. It was incredibly enjoyable experience for him. Rose was his friend, after all, and wasn’t it natural to enjoy spending time with one’s friends?

Of course it was.

And if he caught his mind wandering alarmingly often towards thoughts about what it would be like if he and Rose were _more_ than friends, well, no one knew about that but him. And if he spent hours at a time daydreaming and planning for places he could take her where they could spend _more_ time together, even perhaps somewhere the two of them would be mistaken as more than platonic, he’d never tell. And if on said planets, he would be forced to act towards her the way he actually felt, well, that wouldn’t be any great tragedy. 

He could control himself otherwise, though, when they didn’t have to pretend to be more than they were. She clearly didn’t think of him in such a way, and he wasn’t going to force himself onto her. Never. 

But for now, it was time for dinner, which meant he’d get to spend time with Rose. _Wonderful_ , he chuffed to himself.

He couldn’t find the galley, however, which is where he suspected Rose was at the moment. Not that finding Rose was the primary objective, of course. He just figured at this time of day, she would be where the food was . She didn’t eat too much, not at all. She ate just the perfect amount...blimey. He even rambled in his brain with this new body.

Making a mental note never to say anything out loud about her eating habits, he continued to look for the galley, asking his ship to help him. She switched on some lights and led him to a door, which he opened.

It wasn’t the galley, it was the garden. It looked to be twilight, and he stepped further into the fragrant room. 

About ten feet in front of him was the most elegantly-set table the Doctor had ever seen. The finest crystal and china lay on either side of the small table, a bouquet of blood-red roses between them in a crystal vase. 

Had Rose somehow…?

“Doctor?” the object of his thoughts called out. “Are you in here?”

“Ah, yes! Yes, I’m here,” he replied, and Rose stepped toward him. 

“The Tardis seemed to want me to…” She came to a halt beside him, staring at the table. “Oh, wow, Doctor, this is beautiful! Are we celebrating tonight?”

“I, uh, I didn’t do this.” He tugged his ear. “I kind of thought that maybe...well, that maybe you had.”

“Oh.” Rose blushed and shook her head. “Not me.”

The Doctor sent a dirty mental look to the Tardis, who sent him a smug one in return.

The Doctor’s mind whirled a bit, trying to think of something they might be able to celebrate, some plausible reason for such an elegant dinner, some excuse for his ship’s meddling. The Tardis gave him a nudge towards the table, but he pointedly ignored it. He’d _never_ force unwanted romantic attentions on Rose, no matter _what_ the Tardis wanted. Coming up with no reason for the elegantly set table that he could admit to, he sighed and decided to forget about making excuses. Not that he’d admit to the truth. But oh, how lovely would it be to share a romantic meal like this with Rose? To see the candlelight play across her beloved face? He shut down that wistful train of thought before it got out of hand. 

“I, um,” he shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not all that hungry.”

“Oh,” Rose said, and was that disappointment in her voice? “Maybe you could keep me company anyway?” Rose asked, sounding a little shy.

The Doctor hesitated just a moment before he brightened. A friendly dinner between friends. Of course. That would be splendid. Just friends. Like Rose wanted. And the Doctor loved nothing more than giving Rose Tyler what she wanted.

“Sure! I’d love to have dinner with my best mate. Molto bene!”

The Doctor chattered about repairs to the Tardis and various adventures he’d been on throughout the entire meal, keeping up an endless stream of completely platonic banter that could in no way be misconstrued as anything romantic. He was very careful in his topic and word choices, tiptoeing around anything that could be a land mine and reveal to his companion that she held his hearts in her small, lovely hands. 

Rose just didn’t think of him as anything more than an alien friend, he chastised himself. This romantic dinner that the Tardis had laid out was lovely, to be sure, but it couldn’t be real. His hearts clenched with the thought, and he launched into a description of the flora and fauna of the planet Tream. 

He didn’t miss Rose’s shoulders drooping as the meal wore on, but didn’t say anything. That wasn’t disappointment, surely. It couldn’t be. She must be tired. That had to be it.


	4. 3) The Tardis is Frustrated and Tries Something Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose land in an unexpected location.

“Here we are, Rose! Hainsh, a moon of Andromeda III, colonized by humans in the 42nd century!” 

He grabbed his coat from the railing behind him and pulled it on. Rose smiled at him, loving his exuberance. Loving him.

_Stop it, Rose. You’ll ruin everything._

“You’re going to love it, Rose,” the Doctor nattered on. “The sky is a brilliant purple when the sun is shining, but Hainsh spends about ¾ of the time in darkness due to its rotation and the orbit of Andromeda III. There are day/night cycles while they’re on the side of the star, but the moon is completely dark when it’s on the opposite side of the planet.” 

He reached his hand out for her, wiggling his fingers and Rose took it, still smiling. They walked to the door, hand in hand as always. “The foliage here is amazing. There’s a lovely flower unique to Hainsh, a bit like morning…” he froze when he opened the blue doors. “Glories,” he finished, stunned, and stepped out of his Tardis.

Rose stepped out beside him into the posh room, wide-eyed and surprised. She took in the large, canopied bed, the champagne chilling on ice, the his-and-hers dressing gowns hanging on the back of the bathroom door and oh, look at that: a heart-shaped jacuzzi in the bathroom. The Eiffel Tower was lit up beautifully through the thin curtains that ruffled in the breeze, coming in from the city’s night air.

She crossed the room to the balcony, pulling aside the translucent drape and looking out onto the exquisite view. “Um, Doctor?”

“Yeah, Rose?” he answered without looking at her, looking around the room instead.

“Is Hainsh supposed to look like Paris?” She giggled a little, then bit her lip to silence herself.

“Ah, no. No it is not.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “It would appear that the Tardis has brought us to Paris.” The Doctor said something under his breath that she knew to be a Gallifreyan curse word. Rose cut her eyes at him and he tugged his ear. “And, um, it’s er...it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Rose’s heart seemed ready to beat out of her chest. “Doctor,” she teased, sticking her tongue between her teeth. “How did you know I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower at night?”

He shuffled his feet a little and scratched the back of his neck. “Weeeeell...I mean, it was obvious! You, Rose Tyler, are very obvious.”

She eyed him, taking in the way his eyes were darting around the room and his general caught-out expression.

“You didn’t have a clue, did you?”

“Not a single one.”

Rose felt herself deflate a bit, but rallied. They were in the romance capital of the world, on Valentine’s Day, and the room they were in had nearly everything one might need for a romantic weekend. She tried valiantly to stop the hopeful thoughts coursing through her mind, but couldn’t. 

“Well, even so. S’very sweet of you, Doctor.” She turned and walked back towards him, taking a gamble and placing her hands on the lapels of his coat. “S’romantic, even.”

“What? No! I didn’t...I wasn’t...the Tardis brought us here, not me. I would never…”

Rose didn’t hear the rest. Disappointment crowded her mind and tuned him out. She’d been wrong again.

She gave a brittle, tinkering laugh that she hoped masked her hurt. “M’only takin’ the mick, Doctor. Of course I know you didn’t bring us here on purpose.”

The Doctor gave her a look that she couldn’t quite place, but she couldn’t spend too much time thinking about it, anyway: her mind was consumed with keeping the Doctor from knowing that all she wanted to do was flop down on the bed and cry.

The Doctor stared around the room for a minute, a bit wild-eyed, then turned back to Rose with a brilliant smile. “Well! Since we’re here, might as well make use of it, eh? ‘Course we should! This is brilliant! And look, the bed is already covered with rose petals! Roses for Rose! Hah! No more perfect place for you to sleep in Paris!”

“There’s only one bed,” Rose pointed out, heart pounding. “And, um, a pair of massage tables.”

“Ah, yes. Well,” he tugged his ear while he thought. “I hardly sleep, you know, so I’ll just busy myself on the Tardis while you rest. And, well, you’d enjoy a massage, with a view of the Eiffel Tower by night, wouldn't you? Lovely. I can, um… I’ll just nip back to the Tardis while you enjoy yourself,” he offered.

"You could join me... for the massage," she blurted as he turned toward the door, fighting the blush she felt spreading across her cheeks. "Two tables, yeah?"

The Doctor looked unsettled for just a moment before he answered. "Nah... I'm very limber, see?” He shook out each of his long legs as a demonstration. “Superior musculoskeletal system,” he said, and turned back to the TARDIS. "But you enjoy, Rose. Don't worry 'bout me. I've repairs to do on the...the...gravitational extensions and stabilizer. Felt a little wobbly when we landed, I did.”

“Well sure, you definitely need to fix that,” Rose replied, willing her voice to sound bright and sunny - the exact opposite of the way she was feeling. “Brilliant.”

“Molto bene!” he declared in a bright voice.

“Molto bene,” Rose echoed in a slightly less ebullient voice.


	5. 4) The Tardis is Past the Point of Simple Subtleties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor retires to the library while Rose enjoys the Valentine's surprise in Paris, but the Tardis has something specific in mind for him.

The Doctor wandered into the library a while after telling Rose goodnight. The gravitational extensions didn’t need anything from him, nor did the stabilizer, and the Tardis had zapped him when he tried to tinker on something else. He’d cursed her, but it didn’t matter in the end, he supposed. He wasn’t really in the mood to tinker and was actually a bit tired. 

He’d decided to retire to the library and read a bit, maybe have a little kip in his favorite chair. And definitely not think about Rose, wearing nothing but a towel, lying on the massage table he’d just seen. He gritted his teeth and forced the thoughts of what Rose would likely sound like while some… _stranger_ rubbed their hands all over her perfect body.

No. Definitely not that. If he dwelled on that, he would end up charging back into the hotel room and making an arse of himself. Dangerous territory, that was. 

Instead, he took a seat in the leather wingback that was his favorite and set his mug of tea down on the table beside him, reaching for his copy of Dickens’ short stories. 

It wasn’t there. In its place was a book he’d never seen before. Curious, he pulled it to him and read the cover.

_”Sex for Dummies”._

He glared up at the Tardis. “Really, Old Girl? _Really?_ ”

The Tardis sent an amused hum, then a nudge, telling him to get started.

“I most certainly will _not_ ,” the Doctor huffed, all ruffled dignity. “I’m much too old for her, and there’s no point even thinking about such a thing. Not that I haven’t, but still. It’s never gonna happen. I should chuck this book into a supernova, like I did with your manual. Now, give me back my Dickens book.”

The Tardis sent him the equivalent of crossed arms and haughty shake of the head.

“Fine,” he huffed. “If you won’t help me, I’ll just find it myself. And put this _back_.”

He stood up and marched towards the stacks, only to notice they weren’t there. The only book available to him was the one in his hand. He turned to leave the library, fuming, fully intending to follow through on his threat and toss the offending tome out of the front doors, but the door to the library was missing. He couldn’t leave, and there was nothing else to read.

“Oh, you...you…. _busybody_ , you! I’m not reading this. I’ll take a nap instead.”

Lying down on the couch that had somehow _miraculously_ regained its original size, he took a deep breath.

 _Rose_. All he could smell was Rose. The smell of her shampoo, sweet and fruity, wafted up from the pillow his cheek was lying against. Her pink blanket he’d pulled over himself smelled of cherries and almonds - Rose’s favorite lotion. This was the blanket she used to wrap herself up in when she had padded back into the library at night, after she’d taken a shower and rubbed her freshly cleaned body down with the creamy lotion...he imagined what it must feel like to run his hands down her soft legs, smoothing it into her soft skin…feeling the heat of -

_No. Stop that, you lecherous old fool._

The Tardis smirked and he scowled at her.

He closed his eyes and tried to rest, forcing away the thoughts that being surrounded by her scent brought on. Thoughts of skin and lips and….

“Fine,” he snapped, throwing the blanket off of himself and sitting up abruptly. “Fine. I’ll read your silly book, since it’s so important to you,” he griped to the Tardis. “But it’s just a waste of your time and mine. She’s not remotely interested in...in me.” 

He moved to his chair, plopped down and opened the book. “ _Chapter One. Foreplay._ ” He sighed, quite put out. “Really...? I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

The Tardis just sent him a superior look and another nudge.

“Alright, alright. I’m reading,” he grumbled.

The Doctor found himself so engrossed in the book he held after only a few minutes that he didn’t notice the door reappear on the wall, nor the stacks open up behind him. He just kept reading, fascinated.

In chapter four, “ _Inventive and exciting positions for making love_ ”, he discovered a page that folded out. It was a diagram of the multiple ways and places to make love, illustrated in full color. Tilting his head a little, he pulled the page out and turned the book sideways, staring at the chart studiously. 

“Intriguing,” he muttered.

“Doctor?”

It was a mad scramble to fold the page back into the book and shove it down beside his leg, hiding it.

“Oh, hello, Rose!” he said a bit louder than normal, forcing a bright smile through the blush that stained his cheeks. “Why aren’t you enjoying the hotel room?”

She shrugged. “S’nice, but s’not as fun without you. What’re you reading?” Rose asked politely, walking into the library and towards her couch.

“Er, nothing interesting,” he lied. It had been _very_ interesting. And had created quite a reaction with a certain part of his anatomy that required him to shift in his seat to try and hide. “Just, ah, a manual that the Tardis left out for me. You, um, didn’t want to stay in the hotel?”

“Oh, no,” Rose said, sitting down and stretching out on the couch. “The massage and view and everything were lovely, ta, but the bed wasn’t as comfortable as mine, so I came back here to get ready for bed.” She certainly had gotten ready for bed, he noticed. From where he sat, the Doctor was treated to a fine view of her toned legs, bared due to her ridiculously short shorts. 

“It was more than a bit lonely in there without you nattering on and the Tardis humming. Couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “Thought maybe I’d come in here and read for a bit.”

“Brilliant! Wonderful! Molto bene!” He spun his head to notice that the stacks had opened back up. _Bloody busybody_ , he scowled at the Tardis. 

Rose peered at him for a moment, then nodded to herself. “Right,” she said in a quiet voice, reaching for her volume of Vancarese fairy tales and opening it up. 

The Doctor turned to look at the table beside him and his collection of short stories had been returned. He grumbled at the Tardis again and pulled it in front of him, subtly tucking her first book choice further out of sight between the cushions and praying with great intensity that Rose didn’t notice it.


	6. 5) The Tardis is Getting Real Sick of Your Shit, Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is given a gift to share with the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Rose's dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/27/70/37/2770374b0b88468db0c25f465079c952.jpg), except Rose's is black.

The next day, the Doctor told Rose to get dressed, because he was taking her to an amusement park on the planet Alsaba. Rose clapped her hands excitedly and dashed to her room to put on something conducive to a day of fun. 

The Tardis seemed to have another idea of ‘fun’. She had laid out a black evening gown, beaded all over with a slit up to _here_ and a sexy pair of strappy stilettos. 

Rose blinked. _That_ certainly wasn’t what she would normally wear for a day at the amusement park. 

Shaking her head to clear the daydream of the Doctor ogling her in such a dress, she went to her wardrobe and looked inside. The dress had moved, was hanging on the rack, and there was nothing else available to her. She sighed. 

“What are you up to, girl?”

She got an innocent shrug at the back of her mind. 

“You’re up to something,” Rose accused her, suspicious. “The romantic dinner, the trip to Paris...now this dress…”

The Tardis sent back the mental equivalent of a _who, me?_

Rose sighed and reached down, trailing her fingers along the heavily beaded fabric of the gown being offered her. “I would gladly put on this dress if I thought he would notice. But you and I both know he won’t. M’just a human.”

The Tardis nudged her. 

An idea dawned in Rose’s mind, something much more plausible than the Tardis wanting her to wear a sexy dress for the Doctor. “You’re giving him a hard time, again, aren’t you? Going where you want to go instead of where wants to just to get under his skin, yeah?” The Tardis hummed a denial, but Rose ignored it. “Oh, that’s clever. Clever girl, you are.” She patted the coral beside the door affectionately. “Is this your way of preparing me for what’s out there? Some surprise he’s not privy to?” The Tardis made a noncommittal hum. “But what about the amusement park?”

The Tardis nudged her again. 

“Alright, fine. Whatever you say. S’a gorgeous dress.” Rose examined the sparkling gown in front of her for a minute then muttered. “Maybe someone’ll appreciate it, other than me.”

The Tardis sent her a knowing hum and Rose sighed, pulling the dress from the hanger.

~*~O~*~

The Doctor was fiddling with the console when he heard Rose’s footfalls behind him. He looked at the controls, confused. 

“Seems we’re having a bit of trouble landing, Rose. The Tardis wants us to… _Guh_.”

Rose blushed, but put her tongue to the corner of her mouth. Maybe he _would_ notice, after all. _Finally. Thank God._

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid the Tardis didn’t translate ‘guh’ for me,” she said with no small amount of cheek.

The Doctor’s eyes were wide, staring at her, his eyes sweeping up and down. “Rose, you look...I can’t...you just…”

“Is that a good thing?” she asked in a coy voice. 

“Yes,” he said sincerely. “You look…amazing.”

Rose blushed again, but she doubted he saw it. At that moment, the Tardis dimmed the lights in the console room and began to play “Moonlight Serenade.”

“I, um, I think the Tardis wants us to dance.”

“Good on the Tardis,” she teased him, encouraged by his reaction to her in the dress. “You’ve yet to show me your moves in this new body. M’startin’ to think you left them all behind with my first Doctor.”

“Oi!” he ruffled, indignant. “I’ll have you know I’m a brilliant dancer, in any body.”

“That so?” Rose asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Quite right,” he assured her with a sniff, almost smug.

“Alright, Time Lord, go on then. Prove it.”

There was no sound from them after the last two words fell from her mouth and laid out the gauntlet, only the soft music that surrounded them. The Doctor’s eyes were wide, staring at her, and Rose immediately wished for the power to call them back. In a wild, split second, she wondered if the Tardis would let her cross her own timestream - just to keep herself from saying that. 

The Doctor didn’t move, and she wondered if he intended to disregard her challenge. It sprung to her lips to laugh it off, to say that she’d just been kidding with him then race back to her room and put her trainers and jeans back on. A suit of armor to protect her from the fact that the Doctor didn’t want to dance with her. 

It seemed he was going to ignore what she’d said, and Rose felt herself deflate. He just didn’t want her in that way, not the way she wanted him. She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d go change when he stepped forward and held out his hand. 

“Rose Tyler, may I have this dance?”

Rose looked down at his hand for a minute, disbelieving, then brought her eyes up to meet his. She bit her lip and nodded, taking his hand. 

The Doctor pulled her into his arms, guiding one of her arms around his shoulders and taking her other hand, tucking it between their chests, slipping his arm around her waist. Smiling down at her gently, the two began to sway. 

“I can’t believe how beautiful you look. Not that I wasn’t aware of how beautiful you are, you’re lovely all the time. Even when we’re running away from aliens and you’re covered with mud you’re...blimey, I can’t stop talking,” he sounded frustrated with himself, and Rose smiled a little. “You’re just...you’re beautiful, Rose Tyler.”

Rose’s heart pounded so hard that she was sure he could feel it under her skin. Fighting down her own nerves, she gave him a sly smile. “For a human.”

“No, Rose. You’re just beautiful. You take my breath away.”

Rose didn’t answer, she couldn’t have thought of anything clever to say at that moment if her life had depended on it. Instead, she smiled softly and molded her body to his when he pulled her a little closer. 

The Tardis continued to play soft, romantic music while the two of them held each other close and danced slowly around the console. Rose had never felt so content in her life, and she took the risk of resting her head on the Doctor’s shoulder. She sighed happily when he leaned his head to the side, pressing his cheek to the top of her hair. 

The two rocked back and forth until their movements were so slight they were nearly standing still. Rose didn’t mind at all. She was in his arms, and that was the only place she wanted to be. She sent off a quick prayer to whoever was listening that this moment would never end.

“Rose?” the Doctor asked in a low voice.

She raised her head to look at him, her face soft. “Yes, Doctor?”

He looked down at her and she met his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it after a second when nothing came out. He tried again, opening and closing, still looking into her eyes.

“Cat got your tongue?” Rose asked him, nearly breathless.

“I just…” He paused, looking down at her lips then back up to her eyes, then did it again.

“Yes, Doctor?” she repeated, just above a whisper.

“I…I need to figure out what’s wrong with the Tardis,” he said.

Rose froze in place, stiffening in his arms. She should have known. For a minute there, she’d been convinced that he really did want her. She’d been so sure when he held her close and had seemed so genuine when he told her she was lovely, but no. He was just humoring her. “Right. Of course,” she muttered, shoulders sagging.

“It’s not that -”

“No, it’s alright,” she said, stepping out of his arms and despairing at the chilly air that came between them. “I should… Well, since we’re not going to the amusement park I’ve got scads of things I could be doing. I’ve laundry to be done, um, my favorite hoodie is still all goopy from…”

“I’m sorry we didn’t make it to the amusement park,” he offered quietly. “I don’t know why the Tardis won’t cooperate…”

Rose had thought she knew why, but apparently Time Lords and their toys were both just well beyond her understanding. 

“Oh, s’no bother,” Rose said, her voice airy and light even as her heart was heavy and nearly broken. “Lots to do on the Tardis, innit? I’ve been meaning to go for a swim for a while now, and I won’t have time if I don’t get started on my laundry,” she lied.

“But I really am sorry,” he offered.

“S’alright, Doctor.” Rose hoped the disappointment she felt didn’t bleed through to her voice. 

“This was nice,” the Doctor said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Rose hoped the disappointment she felt didn’t bleed through to her voice. “Yes, it was very nice.”

Neither said anything for a moment, seeming to study each others’ shoes. “Well I should probably -” he began.

“Yes, right,” Rose said. “I’ll just…”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Rose said lamely, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“In a bit,” the Doctor murmured.

She managed to make it to the corridor before the tears started to fall. She slipped off the stilettos and ran the rest of the way to her room before he could hear her crying.


	7. +1 - The Tardis Throws Up Her Hands in Frustration and Resorts to Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor goes to find Rose and explain himself.

The Doctor watched Rose go, his shoulders slumped and hands still in his pockets where he’d shoved them to hide the evidence of Rose’s effect on him. He didn’t have anything that he needed to do to the Tardis - he’d lied (again) because he was afraid. He’d had his hands all over Rose - and wanted more. He’d come close to kissing her - and desperately, desperately wanted to. 

He knew now that she wanted him, too. There was no denying the heat in her gaze, the spark in their touch. And he’d wanted more of that touch. He’d wanted to bend his head to hers and kiss her until she forced him away so she could breathe. He wanted to hold her close, gathering her to him and never letting her out of his arms. 

He wanted to do all of those things and so much more. He wanted...her. 

So what in the almighty hell was the problem?

The Tardis made a frustrated, angry noise in the back of his head and, despite his own frustration with his magnificent ship, he knew she was right. He blew out his breath and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. The Tardis was exactly right. _He_ was the problem. He knew it.

And now he’d hurt Rose. 

She’d deny it, but the Doctor had seen the welling of tears in her eyes when he rejected her. Again. He’d heard her tiny sobs in the corridor as she went back to her room. 

The Doctor was no stranger to guilt, and his old bedfellow had attacked him with vicious accuracy as her footsteps faded. Self-recriminations wracked him, and he bowed his head. The Tardis nudged him, and he didn’t really fight back against her.

He contemplated his earlier actions for only a few moments before he started off down the corridor, determined to talk to Rose and make it right.

~*~O~*~

Rose didn’t want to think about what had just happened, but her brain wouldn’t let her focus on anything else. She felt humiliated, stupid, and so, so hurt. But there was absolutely no point to feeling that way, was there? 

The Tardis gave a conciliatory hum, and Rose set her jaw. 

“You were wrong,” she accused the coral strut beside the door to her wardrobe. “It didn’t make any difference. He didn’t notice.” She looked down at her gown, the sparkles blurring, then becoming clear again when the tear fell and splashed on her cleavage. “And if he did, he didn’t do anything about it.”

The Tardis made another, conciliatory sound in the back of her mind, and Rose bristled. “No, I’m done. I’m done trying to make him...he just doesn’t want me, alright? I’m going to try to get used to that, to accept it, but I think you better had, too.” Rose looked around at the closet, searching the empty racks for the hanger the dress had been on. “What I need right now is some mindless telly and a pint of ice cream. Something _without_ bananas, ta.”

“Rose?”

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, the voice she loved so much. She had absolutely no desire to talk to him right now. She didn’t want to relive what had just happened, she didn’t want to give him the chance to reject her again. Silently, within her own mind, she implored him to go away.

“Rose? Are you in here?”

He apparently wasn’t listening to her silent entreaty. She begged the Tardis to make him leave.

“Ah, there you are.” 

Rose cursed under her breath, then turned to meet the Doctor with a grimace - it was as much of a smile as she could muster.

“Yes, Doctor?”

He stood in the doorway and looked uncomfortable, rubbing his neck then tugging his ear. She wanted to smack him for being so bloody endearing when she was trying to be mad at him. 

“I came to...um...I wanted to apologize.”

Rose turned back around so that he couldn’t see the wetness in her eyes. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You have to take care of the Tardis, right?” Her voice broke on the last word and she cursed her own weakness.

“Right, yes, well…about that-”

A loud thud sounded behind the Doctor. Both of them turned towards the door, only to see that it had closed behind the Doctor. 

It was enough. Rose had had enough. “What’d you do that for!?” she demanded.

“That wasn’t me. I think it was the Tardis.” He reached up to turn the handle.

Rose turned away from him and balled up her fists, covering her eyes, trying to physically force the tears back.

“It’s locked,” the Doctor said, disbelief lacing his voice.

“So unlock it,” Rose demanded, spinning around, feeling the breeze cool the tears on her cheeks. “Isn’t that kind of the sonic’s specialty?”

“The sonic can do all kinds of things,” he muttered under his breath, digging it out of his pocket and aiming it at the doorknob. Rose bit back a snide comment about him getting cheeky when his ship had locked them in a closet.

Nothing happened, and the Doctor’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

“What is it? Why don’t you open the door?”

The Doctor lay his head against the wood of the door and muttered in Gallifreyan before he answered Rose. “It’s deadlock-sealed. The Tardis has locked us in together.”

“What? No!” Rose pushed past him and started pounding on the door. “Let me out!”

“Rose…”

“I don’t want to be in here, let me out!” She could hear the tears in her voice, and resolved not to turn around until she was sure he wouldn’t see them. He couldn’t find out what all of this was doing to her. He just couldn’t.

“Rose,” he started, hesitantly. “Rose, calm down. She’s not going to open -”

He put his hand on her shoulder gently, and once again she flinched at the electric spark that had been crackling between them, with every touch, for days now. This time, though, after nearly a week of allowing herself to believe he cared only to have those hopes dashed over and over, it didn't thrill; it only made her angry. Rose spun around to pin him with a glare, and he took a couple of generous steps back. “Why not? She _has_ to let us out.”

The Doctor shook his head and ducked his head to avert her eyes. “She’s not going to let us out until…”

“Until _what_?” Rose demanded, taking an angry swipe at her wet eyes.

The Doctor took a deep breath. “It seems the Tardis thinks we should be together.”

Rose pretended not to know what he was talking about. There was no way she was going to set herself up for another heartbreak - especially not when they were in such close quarters. “That’s ludicrous,” she scoffed. “We’re together all day, every day. We couldn’t be any more together.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “That’s not what she means, and I think you know it.”

She shook her head in stubborn denial, then felt the wall pushing against her from behind. She took a stumbling step to compensate, and noticed the Doctor doing the same. The two looked at each other: Rose’s eyes wide and surprised, and the Doctor looking nearly ashamed.

After a second, the lights dimmed, just as they had in the console room earlier. Soft, slow piano music accompanied by a sliding trumpet melody began to play. 

Rose looked up at the Doctor just in time for the wall to push her a little closer to him, leaving the two of them only a couple of feet apart. She leaned back against the wall, her hands splayed out behind her bottom to support her. 

The Doctor didn’t raise his eyes from the ground when the Tardis pushed him towards her a few more inches, he just took the step required and kept staring at his shoes. 

There were only a couple of feet between them now, and Rose’s mind was whirling. He didn’t want this. If he’d wanted this, he would’ve done something about it any of the other times they’d been thrown together this week. Surely he had to have known what the Tardis was doing, even if she’d been slow to catch on? 

Her fingers itched to reach out to him, it would be so easy to put her hands on the front of his jacket and feel his double heartbeat. Maybe if she touched him, maybe if she looked into his eyes, maybe… No. She pressed her hands more firmly against the wall - which shifted her towards him a couple of inches.

“Doctor…” she started, but he cut her off. 

“I’m sorry, Rose,” he said suddenly. 

_Of course you are,_ she thought bitterly. “Why?” she demanded.

“Because I lied and said that I needed to work on the Tardis. Because I hurt you, and I never wanted to do that at all. Because I’ve lied to myself about wanting this. Well, not this, not being locked in what appears to be a shrinking closet. I never wanted that. But I have wanted this. _You._ ”

Despite her misgivings, wild hope beat within Rose’s chest, and her breath caught on his last words. “Is that what this is about?” her voice softening. “The Tardis has locked us in here because you’ve wanted me and haven’t done anything about it?” She dared to let herself believe, just a little, one last time.

The Doctor nodded slowly, looking down at his trainers. “That’s why she took us to Paris, that’s why she set up dinner in the garden. That’s why she....nevermind. She just wants us together. She -” he paused before he went on. “She thinks you want this, too. That you want me.” He finally looked up at her, and the hope shining in his eyes was nearly tangible.

The Tardis pushed Rose a little, but she didn’t stumble this time. She’d been readying herself to take a step towards him, anyway. 

“Yes,” she said in a near-whisper. “I want this, too.”

The Doctor took another step toward her, unprompted, leaving less than a foot between them. “You do?”

Words failed her, so Rose just nodded. 

The Doctor took her hand in his, looking down at their fingers as they laced together. He took another tiny step, leaving only a couple of inches of space between the two of them.

“Rose?” he asked, voice so low she could barely hear it.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

He looked up into her eyes then, and Rose was unable to do anything but nod at him, an answer to his unasked question. He slipped his free arm around her, pulling her to him and closing the breath of distance that had been separating them.

“Dance with me?”

Rose didn’t answer with words, she simply put the hand that wasn’t being held by him on the back of his neck and closed her eyes against his shoulder, breathing in his cologne.

~*~O~*~

The Doctor bowed his head, resting it on Rose’s shoulder and breathing in her scent. 

This was right, this was so right. The way she felt in his arms, it was as though she'd been created just for him. He _knew_ that he’d been created for her. He’d been born loving her, and he knew he’d die loving her. 

How could he deny this? How could he resist her? Just looking at her drove him mad with want, with need. With love.

The music swirled around them, the singer articulating the Doctor’s hearts perfectly:  
_I keep trying, trying to push you away_  
_But we go together…_

The Doctor nodded to himself, his head moving almost imperceptibly against Rose’s neck. They went together. They fit. They made sense. Nothing else in the Doctor’s world did; everything was a mad swirl of timelines and responsibilities and guilt and fear...except Rose. Rose was a safe harbor, a shelter from the constant churning in his mind, an alcove of peace from the madness that surrounded and filled him. 

He _needed_ her.

He _wanted_ her.

He _loved_ her.

His lips sought out the place where her neck joined her shoulder by their own volition, planting a soft little kiss there. “Rose,” he murmured against her skin, then moved his lips to discover a new, unkissed area.

“Yeah?” Rose croaked.

“D’you know how long I’ve wanted to hold you this way?” As if to emphasize, he released her hand and put both hands on her hips, feeling the bumpy texture of the dress she still wore beneath his fingers.

Rose didn’t answer him, simply gave him a little squeak in response, but he knew without looking up that she’d closed her eyes and bit her lip. He went on, speaking against the pliant skin of her neck.

“I’ve wanted this - wanted you - since you looked up at me with those gorgeous, cinnamon colored eyes and told me that I wasn’t alone, that there was you.”

Rose gasped a little, but whether it was from his words, his tongue that had darted out to taste her, or the tightening of his hands on her hips, he didn’t know. 

He let his hands go on a bit of a wander, seeking the zipper up the side of her dress, then chickening out and flattening his palm against her side. His thumb grazed the bumpy fabric that covered her breast, and his heartsbeat spiked a bit when she inhaled a sharp breath, proving again how affected she was. 

He nipped at her collarbone with the barest hint of teeth, then kissed the spot lazily. He could feel her pulse beneath his hands, against his cheek. He could smell the pheromones rolling off of her into the air around her, and the faint-but-quickly-strengthening scent of her arousal. He could hear her breathing, ragged and uneven from desire. The knowledge that this cacophony of sensual stimuli from her was happening because of _him_ \- _his_ touches and _his_ lips and _his_ words - left him absolutely drunk with want and need.

“Rose?” he asked between kisses to her neck as he moved upwards. 

“Yeah?” she replied, and he was gratified to hear her voice was breathy and trembling, just like her hands against his back. 

“Tell me to stop, Rose. Tell me you don’t want this, you don’t want me, and I’ll leave you alone. I swear I will, if you want me to. But if you don’t want me to stop...if you want me like this...” His hands slid to her hips and he pulled her flush to him, letting her feel him where he strained against his trousers, proving his need. She gasped a little, and he smirked over the pulse point behind her ear. 

She shook her head, just a tiny little back and forth motion, while her hands clasped at his shoulders, keeping him close. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. He pulled his lips away from the place his tongue had been touching her pulse to chuckle darkly at her.

“Be sure, Rose. Be very sure. Because once we do this, once I make you mine, I’ll never let you go.” Rose drew in another ragged breath and he pulled her tight against him again, rolling his hips against her and closing his eyes against the sensation. He did it again, seeking just a bit of friction. Anything. He was going to explode soon if he didn’t make love to her. He knew it. He’d regenerate right on the spot.

 _Soon,_ he calmed himself. _Very soon._

“I’m -” she started, then paused to gasp when he nipped her earlobe and blew in her ear a little. “I’m sure, Doctor. I never want to leave you. Please, just....”

“Please what, Rose?” His lips danced and slid down the line of her jaw and he gave his hands permission to roam. “Tell me what you want. How to please you.”

“Please kiss me,” she said, her voice near a sob. 

It was the invitation he’d been waiting for. He brought his hands up and threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling her jaw. She closed her eyes, her face tilted to him, but the Doctor had one more thing to clear up. She needed to know.

“Rose?” he asked, and her eyes fluttered open. 

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

“I don’t just want you. You have to know that, before we do this.” Unable to stop himself, he bent and kissed the corner of her mouth before he went on. “I need you, too.” She nodded and looked away, but he gently tugged her face back to his. He looked back up at her and his eyes pierced hers, willing her to understand him, to believe him. 

“I love you, Rose Tyler.”

Her eyes sparkled, heavy with tears, and one slipped from the corner of her eye. The Doctor brushed it away with his thumb, but didn’t look away from her, simply held her gaze.

“Do you really?” she asked, in a tiny little voice.

“Yes,” he said on a breath that was almost a laugh of relief. “Oh, yes.”

“Kiss me, Doctor.”

He could never deny Rose Tyler anything. So he did.


	8. +1, continued - Tardis, Victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose finally give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is _very_ NSFW. It is, without a doubt, the smuttiest smut I ever smutted. Caveat emptor.

Rose had daydreamed endlessly about what it would be like to kiss the Doctor. She’d wondered if it would be a quick, chaste pressing of his lips to hers. Perhaps a nibbling, teasing kiss that would mirror how they flirted with each other so often. 

She had thought - hoped, really - that he would be overcome with passion and snog her wildly, without restraint. A few moments ago, when he talked about making her his and never letting her go, she’d thought his kiss might be hard and demanding. Something to ensure she knew she was his. She'd been ready to prove it to him with her lips and tongue. 

None of her expectations or daydreams compared to the reality of this kiss from the Doctor. 

This wasn’t really a kiss, actually. This was a seduction. 

The Doctor’s lips, warmer and softer than she had expected, slid along hers gently, tantalizingly. He pulled away for only a moment to tilt his head and then his lips found hers again, opening and closing slowly on hers. The teasing movements left her wanting more, desperate for the taste of him, dying to feel him closer. She thought of pulling away from him just to plead that he give her more, more, please just _more_.

But she wasn’t able to pull herself away from him. Didn’t want to, really. She never wanted to be apart from him, never wanted this kiss to end. It was perfect, just as it was.

Then he parted his lips and ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, and Rose whimpered when she opened to him. Her knees, the traitors, suddenly felt weak, and she thrust her hands out behind her to stop her fall. 

She needn’t have worried. The Doctor had her, he always had her. 

His hands left the place they’d been cradling her head, and Rose felt one steel arm wrap around her waist. She had the mental capacity to wonder after the other hand only long enough to feel herself stepping backwards, guided by him. He slowed suddenly and eased her back the rest of the way until her head and shoulders were leaning against the wall. The bottom half of her body sloped towards his, a fact he seemed to enjoy if the lazy rolls of his hips against hers were any indication. 

The Doctor gentled the kiss and pulled away slowly, Rose chasing after his lips. He smirked at that, but she couldn’t care less. She just needed his mouth and hands on her. Now. 

When she opened her eyes, she realized that he was leaning over her, and the hand she’d been missing had been propping him against the wall. Rose bit her lip and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. She was startled to see just how dark his eyes were, the lust in them barely contained. 

“Rose,” he said, voice low and deliberate, and it was the most beautiful word she’d ever heard.

“Doctor,” she replied, cheeky.

“I like your dress,” he said, bringing his finger up to trail along the beaded top of her dress, fingertips skimming the swell of her breasts.

“You do?”

“Couldn’t take my eyes off of you in it, love.” He spread his fingers out along the expanse of bare skin, sliding his hand over to her shoulder and kissing her chest above the dress in question.

Rose hummed out of sheer bliss, feeling his hand trail down her arm then over to her side, skimming its way up under her arm. 

“I have to tell you, though. I have a bit of a problem with it,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice, belied by the rubbing of his hips against hers. 

“Oh?” she asked, trying for an innocent tone.

“Indeed.” His hand found the zipper and began, with confidence, slowly sliding it down her side. “I think it’d look better in a puddle on the floor.” 

Rose’s breath caught as his fingers traced down her side, baring more of her skin, and she balled her hands into fists. This moment, this perfect fantasy come to life, was entirely too good for her to ruin by grabbing him and demanding that he fuck her, now. 

The top of her dress fell away but was prevented from tumbling to the ground by the press of their hips together. Neither of them seemed to notice though; the Doctor was fascinated by what had just been revealed to him and Rose was fascinated just watching him gape at her. His eyes feasted and his hands followed, cupping each of her breasts in a slow, gentle, symmetrical massage. He watched intently as his thumbs brushed across her nipples simultaneously, eliciting a hardening of each one and a sharp hiss of pleasure from Rose. He looked up into her eyes, and his face was quick to change from awe to something infinitely more filthy. 

“No bra, Rose Tyler?” 

“No,” Rose breathed. “Didn’t - didn’t have one. Didn’t need one.”

He squeezed her breasts again with both hands before letting one go to slide his hand around to the velvety skin of her back. 

“That’s very ...convenient,” he rumbled just before capturing one of her breasts in his mouth. His tongue swirled over the hardened peak and she gave a quiet moan, her hands flying to his head and threading through his hair to keep him in place. 

“You like that?” he murmured, the tip of her nipple between his teeth.

Rose made some sort of affirmative sound. She must have, because the Doctor kept doing exactly what he had been, and Rose was gratified. She made a sound of protest, though, when the Doctor’s hand stopped kneading her back and slid downwards, skimming over the dress bunched at her waist, until he hooked it behind the knee exposed by the long slit of her dress and pulled her leg up around his hip. She keened when she felt the hard press of his cock against her, right where she wanted it.

Somehow, through the haze of lust, it occurred to Rose that while the Doctor had divested her of her clothes, leaving her feeling rather debauched, he was still decidedly overdressed. That seemed very unfair. She hastened to unbutton his jacket in an attempt to equalize. When the final button slid through the hole, she went straight to the buttons on his oxford without even pushing off his jacket. She could do that all at once, she decided. Efficient. 

The Doctor, meanwhile, had released her nipple with a pop, and his mouth sauntered towards hers, taking the long route and mapping his progress. His right hand, however, that had been supporting her thigh around his waist, now slid between them to the spot his cock seemed most interested in. His long fingers traced her, trailing up the wet fabric of her knickers.

“You’re wet, Rose,” he said against her mouth. She hummed an affirmative and he went on. “You’re wet - for me.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her focus almost entirely on the way his fingers were tracing the edge of her knickers, curling under them, teasing her thrumming core. “Please,” she moaned.

“Please what?” he asked, feigning innocence, kissing the corner of her mouth, then licking a trail down her neck. His inquisitive fingers continued their quest, pulling her knickers to the side and testing her, the tip of one finger dipping just between her folds. She squeaked and felt him smile against her neck when his finger circled her entrance, then dipped inside.

“So wet,” he praised her, sliding his finger in and out twice, then adding another. “So hot.”

“Doctor,” she whimpered, clinging to his shoulders.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Need you.”

“You’ve got me, my love.”

Rose’s heart skipped a beat over the words ‘my love’, then her whole body thrummed when his thumb found her clit and rubbed a little circle around it. She moaned and tilted her head backwards when he began thrusting his fingers in and out of her, his thumb rhythmically sliding against the little bundle of nerves. 

Nonsense tumbled from her lips until her pleasure built so high she could no longer form words. Each push, pull and swirl of his hand was a nudge towards ecstasy, and she could feel her orgasm shimmering just out of reach. 

“Please,” she near-sobbed. “Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he muttered against her neck, and he was gratified to hear his voice sounding more like a trembling growl than anything else. “Not gonna stop until you come for me. Come for me, Rose.”

She cried out, and he redoubled his efforts, plunging two fingers in and out of her rapidly, his thumb a flurry of movement on her clit. Rose’s blood bubbled in her veins, her brain was on fire, and all she knew was the feeling of him sliding in and out of her.

The Doctor brought his mouth up to her earlobe and nipped, whispering endearments and filth as he rocked his fingers into her over and over. 

“Come, Rose,” he commanded and chose that moment to curl his fingers within her.

Rose teetered on the brink, his name shuddering from her lips as she clawed at his back and shoulders, desperate to remain standing.

“Let go, love,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you.”

She flew apart, every muscle in her body tensing against him, her world an explosion of sensation and emotion. The Doctor continued to stroke her, bringing her down slowly. Her mind was in a fog of bliss, and she was unable to do anything but spare the idlest thought of gratitude for the wall and Doctor’s body propping her up. 

 

~*~O~*~

Eventually, the haze clouding her thoughts began to clear, and she became aware of the Doctor, his breathing ragged and heavy, both hands on her waist and his forehead propped on her shoulder.

“Doctor?” she asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He took a couple more ragged breaths before answering. “M’fine, Rose. Just trying to get control of myself.”

Rose, her movements languid and relaxed, stroked her hands over his back and undulated a little, humming. “I’m not sure I want you to keep control of yourself,” she purred.

The Doctor raised his head to look at her, and she put her tongue in the corner of her mouth when she smiled at him. He looked down at it, darting his own tongue out to wet his lips, then back up into her eyes. 

“I had plans, Rose,” he said, almost in a pleading tone. “I had so many things I wanted for this, for our first time.” She brought her hands up to his head and raked her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, squeezing her waist above the still-bunched dress just a little. “But I’m not...I want this so much. Too much. I’ve fantasized... Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

Her eyes twinkled at him. “Can’t be longer than I have.”

“Oh, Rose Tyler, you’ve no idea,” his voice dripping with dark promise. “Been wanting to show you my moves since well before I regenerated. Lifetimes.”

“Your moves?” she asked, scratching his scalp. He growled a little and bent down to press his lips against her bare skin.

“Yes, my moves,” he said between soft kisses. “Wanted to seduce you, to take everything slowly and make it perfect, but I don’t think I can hold out much longer.

“Want you, Rose,” he murmured against her collarbone, nipping it. 

“Want to touch you.” He began to kiss his way down her chest, his lips dancing over her skin. 

“Want to taste you.” His tongue darted out and wet a tiny patch of skin, and Rose gasped. 

“Want to make love to you,” he whispered, trailing his lips back up towards the other, neglected side of her neck. “Want to make love all night. Make you scream.” He nudged her hair out of his way with his nose and claimed her shoulder as a reward. 

“Want to claim you, Rose.” He put his mouth to the place where her blood ran beneath, the skin there pulsing rapidly in accordance with her racing heart. “Want to make you mine. No one else’s. Mine.”

Rose wanted to ask for what she needed, wanted to challenge him into giving it to her, but the words came out low and garbled instead of bold and direct as she’d intended. He gave one last nip to her neck before he pulled back to look at her.

Her eyes were dark, hooded, glassy with lust when she looked up at him. 

“What was that, love?”

She blinked, grasping to try and remember what she’d said. After a moment she found her mind clear enough to answer with a coy, tongue-touched smile.

“I said, ‘Show me your moves, Time Lord’.”

~*~O~*~

That tongue had teased him long enough, and he bent down to catch it. He kissed her, their lips touching and sliding over each other before his tongue chased hers inside of her mouth. 

She fisted her hands in his jacket and he found himself pulled against her chest. With a smirk, he watched her face transform from lust to determination, as she continued with her abandoned attempt to undress him. She shoved the jacket and shirt off his shoulders and he released her long enough to let them drop to the ground behind him. He tugged his own vest off before crushing her chest to his again, unwilling to go without touching her for longer than he absolutely must. 

They both gasped at the feeling of his bare skin against hers, the Doctor marveling at the brush of her hard nipples against the planes of his chest. His mouth plundered hers, desperate for her taste on his tongue. It was better than he ever could have imagined and, sighing, he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her as close as he could, kissing her as if his next heartsbeats depended on the touch of her lips. 

He bent her backwards a little in his ardor, pressing her against the wall again. He secured her to himself with an arm around her waist and his other hand holding her face to his, situating his thigh between hers. The arch of Rose’s back had her pressing herself more intimately against him, and they both groaned when she ground down a little on his thigh, her own bared leg rubbing firmly where his cock was begging to be released from his trousers. He could feel her heat rubbing against the top of his leg and where he wanted her to be, and the knowledge and sensation of it left him a little dizzy. It occurred to him to warn her that she should stop, that the friction was too good and he would blow off like an adolescent if she did much more of that, but that thought was chased away when both of her hands went to his head, clutching his hair and holding him closer so that she could explore his mouth with her tongue. 

There was nothing langorious about this kiss. It was a tangle of mouths and tongues, each one claiming the other’s mouth, and their breaths came in quick pants. Rose smirked when he pressed himself against her hip, seeking more sensation from her body. She undulated against him, providing friction for both of them, and the Doctor moaned in her mouth, earning a wicked smile. Another roll of her hips resulted in a gasp and the Doctor’s hands coming to her waist in a half-hearted attempt to hold her still. A third, more insistent roll, and he whimpered, digging his fingers into the flesh of her hips, barely coherent enough to hope he wasn’t hurting her.

“You know what you’re doing,” he accused, his voice husky against her neck. “You know what you do to me.”

Rose didn’t answer verbally, she just rocked forward again and let out a breathy chuckle when he clutched her tighter.

“Minx,” he uttered between open-mouth kisses on her collarbone. Rose didn’t disagree and continued earning that title by scraping her fingers through his hair with a moan. 

The Doctor quickly became overwhelmed by sensations. The taste of Rose’s skin exploded on his tongue, the smell of her arousal wafted thickly around him, the sounds she made echoed in his ears, and the feel of her skin fired synapses and woke pleasure centers in his brain he didn’t know he had. Coherent thoughts were difficult to come by, and he scrambled to commit every little sensation to memory. 

But with his mind clouded with ardour, he soon could no longer manage this task, and he allowed himself to simply revel in the taste, smell, sounds and feel of the woman in his arms; the woman he’d been longing to touch like this for over a year. 

Rose arched herself backwards a little and reclaimed his mouth in a scorching kiss, sighing through her nose with pleasure when he brought his hands back to her breasts and started to knead them.

“Oh, God, Rose,” he rasped. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

“You saw them just a few moments ago, Doctor,” she reminded him.

He shook his head, still staring at her chest bared to him, feeling dazed. “It bears repeating. I can't say it enough. Perfection."

She smiled at him, but he didn’t see it, his gaze fixed on her breasts. He surrounded them with his large hands, his palms covering her tight nipples and causing her breath to hitch. Deciding that he needed to taste her again, he removed his right hand and dipped his head to capture her nipple in his mouth. Rose inhaled sharply and ground against him. The Doctor contemplated her level of control before making it his mission to bring her to her peak and shatter her over the edge. Again. Then again. He wanted her wild with need beneath him. He started by sucking as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. She cried out his name and he smiled, smug, letting his lips curl against her flesh while his teeth captured her nipple. 

The Doctor felt the room change around him and raised his head for the briefest glance. The Tardis had released them from Rose’s closet. The Doctor now had Rose pinned against the wall of her bedroom, her gown still bunched around her waist, one leg looped around his, gasping his name. 

His heart skipped a beat when he looked over and saw her bed on the other side of the room. 

She growled his name, a feral, raw sound, and the sheer force of his desire was enough to make him release her breasts in favor of other activities. 

He put his hands under her thighs and tugged upwards, signaling what he wanted her to do. She responded immediately, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, sending one arm around his neck to secure herself to him and cupping his jaw with her other hand, keeping his newly reclaimed mouth on hers.

 _Mine_ , he thought, and walked her blindly backwards towards her bed. When his knees hit the side of the mattress he didn’t release her right away, instead he held her as she was, wrapped around him, snogging her until her breath became choppy and labored. 

Without warning, he tossed her backwards onto the bed, watching the bounce of her breasts hungrily. He grabbed the skirt of her gown and hauled it down over her legs, throwing it aside without second thought. She bit her lip and looked up at him with dark, hooded eyes, and he spared only a moment to toe off his trainers and socks before he was over her. 

“Mine,” he growled, bringing his mouth to the underside of her jaw. 

Rose bit her lip on a whine when he positioned himself between her legs and ground his cock against her, marking the place he'd claim soon. He did it again and a little, involuntary noise escaped her throat. He brought his mouth up to catch it, slipping one hand between them, cupping her through her skimpy knickers. 

“Mine, Rose,” he reiterated with a light squeeze to the apex of her thighs. Then he slid his hand upwards to the waistband of her knickers and tugged them a little, slipping his hand inside.

She gasped against his mouth when his fingers found her and slid over her curls experimentally. The Doctor nibbled her lower lip and dipped his finger between her folds.

“So hot, Rose,” he murmured against her jaw, ghosting kisses towards her ear. “Still so wet. Even wetter now.”

Rose nodded and he rewarded her with a swipe of his finger and nip to her earlobe.

“All for me,” he marveled softly against her ear. 

She made an unintelligible sound when he dipped one finger inside of her, surrounding it with her warmth. 

“What do you want me to do, Rose? Do you want me to fuck you with my finger again, like this?” He demonstrated, sliding in and out twice before adding another finger and sliding in and out again, getting a rhythm started. “Do you like that?”

She made another groaning sound, but it sounded like an affirmative to the Doctor. 

“Do you want this?” He rolled his hips against her, letting the steel of his cock rub against the top of her thigh. “Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers gaining in force and speed.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“What about my mouth?” he questioned her, sliding his lips over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, slipping his tongue out and writing his name on her hot skin in Gallifreyan. “Would you like my mouth on you?”

Rose whimpered and nodded, her hands fisting in his hair at the suggestion. 

“That seems like a definite yes. You want to ride my tongue, Rose?”

“Yes,” she hissed, and he gave a dark chuckle against her sternum. 

“Well,” he said silkily, “I would love to do that for you, Rose. But I need something from you.”

“Anything,” she panted, rocking her hips into his hand. “Anything,” she whispered.

“I need to know you’re mine,” the Doctor said simply, moving his lips around her nipple. “I need to hear you say it.”

Rose nodded, still writhing beneath his hand, meeting the thrusts of his fingers. 

“Say it, Rose,” he commanded softly. “I’ll do anything you want, fulfill every fantasy you’ve ever had.” His tongue and lips danced across her belly, smiling against the skin that jumped and quivered with his breath. 

“I’m yours,” she whimpered, nudging him firmly towards where she wanted him. 

“I didn’t hear you, I don’t think,” he said just before taking the waistband of her knickers between his teeth.

“I’m yours, Doctor.”

“All mine?” he pressed, tugging at her knickers with his free hand, pulling them down her legs, his other hand not letting up on its thrusts into her slick heat. 

“Yes,” she breathed. “All yours. And you are mine.”

“Yes,” he breathed over her sex, just as his mouth joined his hand. 

Rose released a strangled cry when his tongue descended on her, circling her clit then making its way down to her entrance where his fingers maintained their steady pace. He lapped at the juices there, consuming her flavor and humming appreciatively, sending Rose’s back arching off of the bed at the sensation. The Doctor drew his mouth back, eliciting a whimpered plea from Rose, before he suckled at her clit again. 

She rocked against his hand and face, rasping out unintelligible sounds with his name, pleading without words. The Doctor used his free hand to reach down and unbuckle his belt then open his trousers, giving his cock a reprieve from its cruel fabric prison. 

The Doctor pulled back a bit to take in the sight before him. She was, by far, the most incredibly erotic thing he’d ever seen, writhing in front of him, begging him for more. Rose’s taste on his tongue was more intense and the flavor of her arousal more wonderful than anything he’d ever experienced in his nine centuries. Her breathy little cries and moans, the whimpered pleas for him to give her something she couldn’t name, left him straining against his pants. He shoved them down his thighs along with his trousers with more force than was strictly necessary, almost angry at them for coming between his body and Rose’s. With awkward movements, he freed himself of the fabric, not allowing his hand to abate from the constant, steady pulsing in the gorgeous creature in front of him. 

He immediately brought his free hand down to his newly-released cock, tugging it absently, still enraptured with the enthralling vision before him. 

The Doctor let himself fall on top of her, catching himself on one arm to suspend the majority of his weight over her. He was careful not to dislodge his hand, still fucking her with his fingers at a slow enough pace to keep her hot and pleading for him, but too slow for her to come. He kissed her, letting her taste herself while he partook of her mouth, and ground the tip of his cock into her wetness near his fingers, nudging her clit, earning a loud, moaned version of his name in his mouth. 

He pulled his lips away from hers and began peppering kisses around her mouth, down her chin, up her jaw and towards her ear. 

“Rose?” he asked, just before nipping her pulse point and soothing it with his tongue.

She gasped at the feel of his teeth, then breathed, “Yeah?”

“I’m yours, Rose,” he told her between open-mouth kisses and nibbles to the column of her throat. “M’all yours.” He groaned a little when her arms came up to clutch at his back, validating her claim to him. “No one else’s. Only yours.”

“Good,” she said on an exhale, and he would have laughed if he’d had the ability to do anything but be deadly serious. 

"I need to be inside you, Rose. Please."

Rose nodded wordlessly and that was all the encouragement he needed. He withdrew his fingers and lined himself up at her entrance. 

The Doctor slid into her with a long, slow stroke and closed his eyes, just reveling in feel of her around him. He seated himself fully and stopped, holding himself suspended over her. Rose drew a shuddering breath then looked up into his brown eyes, her own eyes shimmering with emotion.

“Hello,” she said, almost a little shy, but seeming to expect him to smile and say it back.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered, reverent. Rose looked confused, and he clarified: “I fought this for so long, so _long_ , Rose, but I just...I dreamed of you like this so often...and I’d wake up and be alone again, every time…” 

She rolled her hips a little, the expression on her face indicating that she was probably doing it deliberately, her slick walls gliding against him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his fringe dropping to her shoulder while he slid in and out slowly. 

“But here you are...corporeal. You’re better than all of my dreams. You feel so good, Rose, so _fucking good…_ "

Rose began to raise her hips to meet his slow thrusts, silently asking him for more, faster, harder. He acquiesced, driving into her, reveling in the wet slapping sound of his body against hers.

“Tell me I’m yours,” she demanded, her words a bit stuttered from the force of each thrust. “Say you’re mine.” She sucked at his collarbone, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Tell me, Doctor. Tell me.”

He did, babbling about his devotion and how he’d never let her go, pleading with her to never leave, lowering himself to place his mouth beside her ear even as his hips drove into her faster and harder. Rose didn’t talk, instead making a high-pitched little grunt with every slam of his cock into her. He delighted in each one and strove for more.

Rose looped her arms under his, and he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, giving her the leverage she needed to press herself more firmly against him with each downward thrust. He retaliated by looping one of her legs over his arm, opening her more widely to him and deepening his stroke. 

It was too much. Too good. He couldn’t possibly last. Finesse was thrown out of the window and he brought his hand between them, rubbing frenzied, sloppy circles on her clit, pleading with her to come with him. 

She howled her release, her back arching and pressing her even tighter against him, legs locking around his waist, toes pointing. The Doctor removed his hand, slamming his hips into hers at a frantic pace, seeking relief from the hot ball of tension at the base of his spine.

His mind went blank when orgasm finally claimed him. The Vortex, his knowledge of the past, present and future, and every clever thought in his brain dissipated until nothing was left but the feeling of the last, shuddering thrusts while he erupted into her. Her name, falling from his lips, was an invocation and prayer of praise. 

He collapsed against her, spent, his mind blissfully blank but for one thought:

“I love you, Rose. I love you. Don’t ever leave me. I love you.”

She stroked his back, fingers drawing lines up and down the damp skin over his spine and shh’d him. 

“I love you, too, Doctor.”

~*~O~*~

The Doctor and Rose lay together in a curl of sweaty limbs and blissful thoughts. He whispered nonsense into her hair - sweet nothings and precious everythings - and stroked her arm, absently tracing shapes that he had no name for. Didn’t matter. He was holding Rose Tyler, the way he’d always wanted. 

It was the beginning of something beautiful, and he relished the moment. 

Rose raised up on one elbow to look at him. “So,” she asked with a mischievous glint in her eye. “That thing you did, you know, with your tongue?”

He leered at her. “Liked that, did you?”

“Mmmhm,” she answered, tracing her free hand through the sparse hair on his chest. “Just curious, though. Did you learn that from your book?”

The Doctor froze, mortification washing over him. “I don’t… You must be… What book?” he stammered, feeling his face flush bright red.

Rose tittered, then dropped a quick, reassuring kiss to his lips. “Just a sec,” she said and rolled to her side away from him, reaching over to her side of the bed. He heard a drawer open and close, then she rolled back to him, propping herself back on her elbow and grinning at him. In her free hand, she held up a copy of a book. “I found this on my pillow a couple of nights ago.”

The Doctor peered at the cover. “ _101 Nights of Great Sex,_ ” he read aloud, then glared up at the ceiling. “Why you…” he fumed at the Tardis. “That’s it. No upgrades for a month.”

The Tardis blew a raspberry in the back of his mind, and he scowled. Rose giggled. 

“Don’t be mad at her. Gave me some great ideas, this book did,” she said, wiggling it back and forth a little.

The Doctor grabbed the book and tossed it to the side, rolling over to pin her beneath him with his body. 

“Rose Tyler, if you think you’re in for only a hundred and one nights of great sex, you’ve got another thing coming.”


End file.
